Submersion
by blue252
Summary: "Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the way her heart is racing once again at his proximity, or maybe it's just that his words have always gotten to her, reached her in ways that no one else's can." Three-shot based off of Pandora/Linchpin. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This started as a one shot that grew entirely too long so I've split it into three chapters that I'll post over this week. Huge thanks to both Nic and Jess for reading over this multiple times, helping me hopefully make it into something worthy of posting, and for being generally wonderful and encouraging. _

* * *

**Submersion - Part 1**

_This time it's different…_

It's the sharp blow of impact, a jolt of force that jerks them forward, sends them flying. There's no time to brace themselves, no time to do anything but hold on for the hard collision with the water, the inevitable fall that follows. It's a seemingly endless descent as the daylight is swallowed by darkness, a muddied brown that forces its way in and around them. She claws helplessly at the seatbelt, squints through the fading light, eyes wide, desperate. It's only been seconds but it feels like the longest moment of her life. Her mind screams that this can't be the end. It can't be. _ No._

She writhes vigorously beneath the restraint, struggles to loosen it, tugs as hard as she can against the lock. But the water is rising rapidly, seeping in through every window, every door, every crack that it can invade. Relentless as it rips through the space, stealing their air. Precious air. Time is not on their side.

She turns to him, and for just a moment he holds her gaze. His eyes reflect the fear she feels, their usual spark of blue dulled by the darkness and he reaches out for her, mimics her attempts to tear the fabric of the seatbelt, pulls and wrestles with the lock over and over. But it doesn't budge.

Desolation washes over her with every inch of rising water. They speak in frantic tones, trying to find the knife or the gun, anything to get her out, but they can't, they've got nothing this time, and then there are no more words exchanged, no sounds except for the steady rush of the Hudson filling the cruiser and the rattle of her seat from their ongoing battle with the lock as they continue to sink deeper, _so much deeper_.

There's only a foot of space left between water and roof and she strains her neck, tries to savor every last gasp of oxygen. She can feel the panic rolling off of him in waves as they fight to free her. She can't understand why nothing is working. They got out last time, they got the gun, it's supposed to be under the seat, it's _supposed to save them. _But this time she's still pinned, effectively trapped, her fate sealed. Their eyes lock again as they both take one final, deep breath before they're completely submerged.

She can read the silent apology in his expression, the regret, the pain. All of the words they still haven't said, that they still _need_ to say, will never have the chance to say now; the weight of everything left unspoken is heavy between them, suffocating, just like the water she's drowning in.

She knows he has to leave her. He only has a narrow window of time to make it to surface before the air in his lungs runs out; and all at once she realizes, it's not dying that scares her, it's losing him. She'll never know what it could have been like, _would _have been like to truly live with him by her side. She'll never hear his voice again, see the laughter in his eyes, feel the touch of his hand soft against her skin. The words she's kept hidden, treasured and feared for the last nine months - she'll never be able to say them back. He'll never know she felt...no, _feels_ the same. It's not just water that turns her blood to ice in her veins.

She closes her eyes, grips his hand, squeezes it one last time, and prays that somehow he knows how much he means to her. Prays that he'll remember her, remember always and that maybe over time he'll forget all that she wasn't - all that she couldn't be for him. She motions for him to swim while he still can, while there is still enough air, and then she lets go…

This isn't worth both of their lives. He can still make it out. He can still live_._ He _has _to live.

But when she opens her eyes again he's still there. For some reason he's not swimming, he's not kicking his way through the window, he's reaching out for her, clinging to her. _No, Castle, no. _

_It's not supposed to happen this way. _

It's getting increasingly harder not to inhale. The pressure in her lungs is building, building and she keeps pushing him, punching at his shoulders as much as she can from where she's trapped. _Please go, Castle. Please, please…you can't die too._

But it's no use. He shakes his head vehemently at her. _No, Kate. I'm not leaving you here alone._ He's managed to curl himself around her, pull her head to his shoulder, eerily similar to the way they clung together in that freezer a year ago. Was it only a year ago?

It's not so much unlike that night. How many times have they faced death together? The cold seeps into every pore of her body, absolutely everything aches. The silence is deafening now that they're underwater and the cruelest part is that she still can't say the words. _I love you, Castle. I love you too._

She looks up into his eyes through the murky depths and makes the only decision she has left. She crashes her lips against his, shares her last breath with him. If this is how it's supposed to end – how it's going to end – she'll give him everything she has left.

Then, she finally succumbs to the need for air.

* * *

She wakes with a start, gasping at the remnants of the nightmare still flashing before her eyes. Her phone is ringing loud next to her on the nightstand and she reaches for it blindly. She tries her best to growl her last name into the speaker as her chest heaves and her heart pounds violently. She retrieves the pen and pad she keeps nearby for just this purpose and scribbles down the address quickly before hanging up and sinking back against the headboard of her bed, needing a moment to collect herself.

It's that awful nightmare again. She's had it every night since the case closed. It always starts the same but she can never predict how it will end. Sometimes they're both able to get free. Sometimes it's Castle who's stuck, other times it's her. Sometimes the last thing she sees is Sophia Turner's face taunting her, laughing, eyes coldly watching her drown. But tonight's…that one was new. And it's left her shaking, completely and utterly wrecked.

She finally shoves the covers off and pads across the floor to her bathroom on unsteady legs, flicking on the light, thankful to be surrounded by its warm glow. She's tempted to roll her eyes at herself for this new personal low. Since when has she ever been uneasy in the dark? The idea is ridiculous to her but she can't deny it. It's just a little too much right now, too reminiscent of drowning in that icey, shadowy water, of being just _that_ close to giving in to the end.

Her face is pale but for the massive shadows underneath her eyes. She turns on the faucet, waits for it to heat, and splashes some water against her cheeks, hoping that she will regain some color. She stares at her reflection for a moment, takes another deep breath, and tries to suppress the shiver that runs through her body. She hasn't been warm in a week, not since before that night. Lanie diagnosed them both with mild hypothermia after their dip in the river but she knows it's more than that. This brand of cold runs much deeper.

They've cheated death so many times and she can't help but ask herself, how many chances are they going to get? How many days is she going to waste, not speaking, selfishly holding onto his words? What good are they if she's not willing to embrace them, recognize their meaning? She wants to be ready so badly that it hurts - it aches all the way down to her bones. She's so tired of doing this alone but it's all she's known for so long. And she doesn't trust herself not to ruin everything. She can't ruin this - the one _good_ thing in her life, even as complicated as it is right now.

She sighs as she returns to her room and opens her dresser, reaches in and pulls out a pair of jeans, a button up, and her favorite Burberry coat. At least she'll get to see him today. Even if it's the coward's way out, work related and not anything like what she really wants, it still helps to have him nearby. It still eases some of the chill she's not been able to fully shake since last week. She'll call him in a few minutes, meet him at the scene, and they'll step back into their careful, cautious dance. A little less playful than it used to be but still the only comfort she seeks. The only constant in her life, keeping her afloat. And right now, she could really use a cup of coffee.

* * *

Unfortunately, her day does not improve.

The case is horrific. A carjacking that turned into a double homicide when the victims tried to resist. The bodies were disposed of in a particularly gruesome manner that even had Lanie grimacing at the scene.

Then, the boys nearly get jumped by a group of thugs who happened to be in the reportedly abandoned warehouse where the car was ditched.

As if that wasn't enough, Castle and she spend all day trying to track down leads across the city. Her current cruiser (a temporary replacement that appears to be about twenty years old) breaks down on them while they're on the way back to the precinct.

And after all that they finally make it back only to find that a witness came forward and had been waiting with an ID of the carjacker. One that essentially cracked the case for them and could have ended the investigation hours earlier if someone had just called to let her know.

By the end of the day she's exhausted and annoyed, the little sleep she'd gotten the night before not nearly enough. Yet, she finds herself dreading the thought of going home, crawling into bed alone, only to slip back into another nightmare. She doesn't think she can handle another night alone with those dreams. If she can just wait out most of the uniforms, she's made up her mind that she will crash in the break room. Not ideal but it's a plan that sounds way more appealing than her empty apartment.

So she's hunched over paperwork on her desk, fighting to keep her eyes open, just waiting for the precinct to clear out a bit, when she feels his hand on her shoulder.

"Beckett, let me take you home."

She wants so badly to lean back into his touch. She's so tired and his hand is so warm. It'd be so easy to give in to the comfort he offers, the magnetic pull of her body to his.

"Yo Ryan! Can you give me a hand with these files?"

She hears Esposito yell across the room and that's all it takes to jolt her out of her brief reverie. She stiffens on reflex. What was she thinking? She groans inwardly. She's got to be stronger than this.

She shakes her head, keeps her eyes set down, pretends to focus on the pages in front of her. "You go on, Castle, I'll leave soon." She could have sworn he left thirty minutes ago. She's not sure she's equipped to resist his pestering right now.

"Mmm, nope, sorry can't do that. I'm not leaving til you do," he says in that matter of fact voice, plopping down into his chair, leaning back exaggeratedly and lacing his fingers together across his chest.

It's his determined stance. The one that he loves to use against her. Mostly for the fact that she caves to it, oh, about ninety-nine percent of the time now. He knows that she knows he's got no qualms about calling her bluff. Stubborn man – he will sit there staring at her for hours until she finally gets so frustrated that she yields to him. He's proven it on more than few occasions.

"Besides Beckett, you don't have a ride, remember," he continues. "You kind of need me."

And, _oh_, if only he knew how closely those words hit home to her. She huffs at him, finally looks up, meets his eyes and his expression softens immediately. He leans forward and lays his hand on her arm. "Kate, seriously, let me take you home. You look like you haven't slept in days."

He must see the expression on her face because he backpedals immediately. "I mean, you look great, but you - well, you look so sleepy. And I know you're trying to hide it but I've seen you yawn at least five times…" he rambles on, chuckling nervously.

Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the way her heart is racing once again at his proximity, or maybe it's just that his words have always gotten to her, reached her in ways that no one else's can. But her defenses are all totally shot by this point and she finally finds herself cutting him off, agreeing, letting him hold her coat as she slips her arms into it, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. And before she knows it, he's ushering her into the elevator, his hand warm against the small of her back. This time she does lean into his touch.

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Submersion - Part 2**

_Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the way her heart is racing once again at his proximity, or maybe it's just that his words have always gotten to her, reached her in ways that no one else's can. But her defenses are all totally shot by this point and she finally finds herself cutting him off, agreeing, letting him hold her coat as she slips her arms into it, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. And before she knows it, he's ushering her into the elevator, his hand warm against the small of her back. This time she does lean into his touch._

Forty minutes later, she's unlocking her door while he crowds her back, hands full of Chinese takeout. He insisted on getting food on the way to her apartment and she loves him all the more for that since she can't remember exactly the last full meal she ate.

She watches as he makes his way around her kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet and utensils from the drawer. Something about the sight relaxes her, wipes away some of the stress she's felt. It's not like he's even been to her place that many times but the realization that he fits here, fits into her life without even really trying, it leaves her a little breathless. And once again she finds herself having to fight the urge to just let go, jump in.

She shakes her head, tries to snap herself out of her thoughts before he catches her staring, and busies herself by retrieving a couple of wine glasses. She finds a red she bought a few weeks earlier, pours a moderate amount in both of their glasses, and takes them to the coffee table where he's set the food out in front of the couch.

"This okay?" he asks, gesturing to the plates as she approaches.

"Looks great. Thanks for convincing me to leave tonight…and for getting dinner," she adds, as she sinks into the soft cushions of the couch.

"Least I could do. And don't thank me, it was a ploy to get dinner all along," he jokes. "I've been starving since before the car broke down and I'd have been really whiny if you didn't give in."

She rolls her eyes. "When are you _not_ whiny, Castle?"

He shrugs, "When my stomach is full of Kung Pao chicken and fried rice." He waggles his eyebrows at her. She can't help but smile and has to stop herself from sticking her tongue out at him.

She finally picks up a carton of lo mein and just barely manages to hold back a moan as they both dig into their food. It tastes heavenly and she really was starving too. They drift into a comfortable silence as they eat and it's just another one of the other things she's grown to love about him. She'd never have guessed that he was so capable of being quiet in the right moments, of just being there, a calming presence in her life. He always has the words when she needs them but he's also perceptive. He waits patiently, gives her the space she needs to work through things, and he somehow knows her so well. She's never been more grateful for that. And sitting there, amidst cartons of Chinese, the warmth of his presence relaxes away the remainder of the day's stress.

When they finish, he takes the plates back to the kitchen. She refuses to let him do the dishes so he refills their wine instead, flittering back and forth, essentially hovering as she cleans up. It doesn't even annoy her anymore. Okay, sometimes it does, but mostly it's a comfort and they fall into a rhythm of her washing, him drying and putting away the dishes as they dance around her kitchen in an act so domestic that it conjures up memories of her own parents. Her heart contracts at the images playing back in her mind - it's bittersweet, she thinks, but it also reminds her of how much she wants this, deep down, underneath all of the waiting and working to be ready.

She wants these little things, the quiet moments at the end of the day, coming home together. To be able to share the burdens. It's a pleasure she's not allowed herself to have in such a long time, maybe not ever in the way she could. But she knows that if there's anyone she'll share it with, it's him.

Eventually they settle back onto the couch, make quiet conversation about the week and his family with their glasses of wine in hand, and it's not long before she feels her eyes growing heavy. The effects of the case, the sleepless nights, and the alcohol all combine to work against her. She struggles to stay awake until he finally nudges her, gently says that he can leave, let her get some rest.

Her eyelids flutter open. She's suddenly awake enough to know that the last thing she wants is to be left alone and she reaches out, grips his arm, and looks over at him.

"Stay?" she asks softly.

He smiles, clearly surprised, eyes crinkling as he looks over at her and suddenly she's transported back to that couch in Los Angeles. He's looking at her the same way he did that night when she wanted so badly to reach for him. When she was terrified and thrilled and so thrown off by the honesty of his words to her and the realization that she was absolutely, irrevocably, madly in love with this man. And when she did the only thing she knew to do. She ran. She ran because there was Josh. She ran because she was a mess over Royce. Mostly she ran because they didn't confront these feelings, didn't speak so directly, and she was scared. It was either run or go diving headfirst into the deep end. Ironic that now he's the only one keeping her from drowning.

"All you ever have to do is ask," he answers, pulling her over until she's propped against him, her head resting against his shoulder. He covers her with the throw that was folded over the back of the couch and wraps his arm around her. She thinks about protesting because this is far too close again, way past their usual barriers…but she's so tired. And he's so warm and inviting and as her eyes drift shut again she thinks this is exactly what she needs right now. Maybe diving in with him is the safest thing she can do.

"Sleep, Kate."

The last thing she feels before she falls asleep are his lips pressing gently against her hair.

* * *

They're sinking again.

The fall is quicker this time. There's some kind of current in the water and just when she manages to break free, to escape through the window of the car, it's pulling at her, dragging her away from him.

She's swimming as hard as she can and getting nowhere. She drags her arms through the brown water over and over again but she's not moving. Only getting pulled further away and it's too muddy, too cloudy to see the car anymore. She wants to scream, has to do something, _anything_ because the last thing she saw was his body trapped in the cruiser and no, he can't die. He can't die. She cannot leave without him. _No, Castle, no!_

"Kate!"

She hears his voice and she fights even harder, struggles against the current but it feels like her arms are pinned now. She can't move, she can't scream, she can't cry, it's all water and no air and no Castle.

"Kate!"

She feels herself being shaken. She's spinning around and around in the water but she still can't see him. Everything is a dizzying blur of water and darkness. But _no_, she will not let him die. She won't. She has to find a way to get to him. _Castle._

"Kate! Please, wake up!"

Suddenly, her eyes are opening to pitch black and she blinks confusedly, her breath coming in ragged gasps for air as she clutches blindly, hands gripping his shirt.

"Castle," she all but sobs as his arms encircle her, hold her so close that she can hear his heart beating quickly in his chest.

"Hey, you're okay, you're okay," he murmurs softly against her hair. "It was just a dream, Kate, just a dream."

He's running his hands in circles against her lower back, a gesture so tender and loving that she could cry. And damnit, why does she have to be so broken? She loves him so incredibly much that this is what the thought of losing him does to her. It breaks her, rips her apart, leaves her weak and shaking. A complete sobbing mess in his arms.

He pulls back after a few minutes once her breathing settles a bit, and brushes his thumb gently across her cheek, attempts to wipes away her tears, and in the darkness something stirs within her.

Her brain is yelling that it's a bad idea. A _terrible_ idea but now that she's in this moment, she can't seem to stop herself. When is it ever going to be the right time? When is she ever going to be ready? How much longer can she go on half-living with all these secrets and insecurities and _regrets_? She's terrified of screwing this up but the thought of wasting another minute, another precious second of their time makes her stomach churn, grips her in a panic far worse than anything else.

So she makes a choice.

"I can't do this anymore."

He jerks his hand away like it's been scalded, sinks backward into the couch cushions with a sigh, drops his head down into his hands.

"I'm sorry," he grits out, grimacing. "I…I know it's too much. I just…you were shaking and crying, Kate. I couldn't watch you go through that alone. I couldn't not wake you." She can hear the emotion in his voice, watches as he rubs a hand through his hair in frustration and _oh_, he thinks she's trying to push him away again.

"No, Castle, no…that's not what I meant." She reaches to capture his hand in hers again, runs her thumb absentmindedly across his skin while she tries to work out the words in her head.

His eyes look wary, dark blue in the night and it hurts her that she's done this to him. Put this cautious fear in his eyes. She longs to ease it away, trace the lines of his face, erase the worry. All she can do is be honest, try to give him her words, and if the words are not enough then, she's determined to showhim.

"I meant I can't do this _alone_ anymore," she corrects her earlier statement.

"What are you saying?" His free hand has returned to her face, has tangled in her hair and his eyes are a little brighter now, a little more hopeful as he asks the question.

"I'm so tired of fighting this," she admits, softly. "I'm so tired of fighting _us_. Every time we almost die and we don't talk about it, we don't acknowledge just how close we've come to losing each other. And I just can't do it anymore. I can't lose you. You mean too much to me."

He looks stunned. Like this was the last thing he expected her to say. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can she presses a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Castle, I'm in love with you."

"What?" he asks, a small smile playing at his lips, his eyes crinkling as he continues to stare at her, a little bewildered.

She blushes, rolls her eyes at him in an attempt to distract him from the flush in her cheeks. "Shut up, you heard me," she mumbles, ducking her head.

He reaches to cup her chin, tilts it upward so that she's looking at him again while he strokes his thumb tenderly along the curve of her cheek. The smile he's been fighting finally widens across his face. "You know I love you too, Kate," he says. "You don't have to do this alone."

It feels like a weight has been lifted from her chest, all the days of struggling to acknowledge her feelings, her insecurities, it's all been leading to this moment. And maybe it's not about being ready. Maybe she'll never be as ready as she thinks she needs to be. Maybe instead, it's about being strong enough to recognize the good and to quit running. To choose life and to start living it with him.

"I'm just…I'm sorry I've made you wait so long. I wanted to be whole again. I wanted to be good enough for you."

"You're more than worth the wait. I'll wait as long as you need," he says, continuing to card his hand through her hair as he holds her close.

She pulls her head back again, needs to look him in the eyes. "What if I'm tired of waiting?"

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Once again, thank you to Nic for (ever so nicely) making me to write this part of the story. It would not be seeing the light of day if it weren't for her. Please note the rating change. Hope you guys enjoy it and until then, I'll be hiding somewhere waiting to see what you think since this is my first attempt at M._

* * *

**Submersion - Part 3**

_She pulls her head back again, needs to look him in the eyes. "What if I'm tired of waiting?"_

She sees the surprise flash across his face. "Are you…are you sure?" he stammers.

She looks up at him, wills him to see how much she means the words. "I just want you, Castle. I've never been more sure."

She closes the remaining distance between them, captures his lips with her own, can feel his startled gasp at the move. He responds but it's hesitant at first, as if he can't believe this is actually happening. And that's not what she wants at all. She needs him to be sure of her. Sure of this, of _them._

So she curves her palm around his neck, smoothly gliding into his lap, her tongue sliding deep. He moans in surprise at the increase in contact, the sound igniting a wave of want inside her that shoots straight to her core and she can feel his body respond almost instantaneously. His arms tighten around her and his hands are roaming up and down her back, painting shapeless words against her skin with his fingertips through the thin t-shirt she shrugged on when they got home. His tongue tangles with hers, explores her mouth in an erotic dance; it sends flares of heat pulsing through her veins and _yes,_ this is what she wants. This is what she_ needs._

He bites at her bottom lip, smoothes his tongue over the area, and it's her turn to moan in pleasure as he breaks away to trail his mouth across the line of her jaw, lips and tongue and teeth all working together to nip and caress. When he finally lands on the sensitive skin just below her ear she shivers, her whole body thrumming with arousal, and her head falls to the side, granting him better access to continue his assault on her neck, a fresh surge of need erupting inside her. Her skin is on fire everywhere he touches and _oh_, why did they wait so long to do this?

The want is building steadily, coiling low in her stomach almost painfully, and she's completely overwhelmed by the obscene way his tongue is working against her body. She's dazed and dizzy and it's too much and yet, it's not nearly enough. She needs more. She needs to feel his skin moving against hers.

He wore a dark blue sweater today, one she hadn't seen in a long time and not only did it look amazing, the color of cerulean that matches his eyes perfectly, but she's all the more grateful for it currently because she's not sure she has the grace nor the steadiness of hand to deal with buttons right now. She slips her hands underneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt below the sweater, relishes his sharp intake of breath at her touch, the way his eyes have slipped closed, and she slowly pulls up, trailing her fingers across the muscles in his chest along the way, forcing him to briefly halt his movements so she can slide the clothing over his head and toss it aside.

For a moment, their eyes meet in the dark and she's nearly overcome by the look of awe on his face, the complete reverence tinged with longing and she feels breathless, drunk on his love, on this unyielding need to have him so much closer, always closer. He's had her heart for longer than she can remember, knows the very depths of her soul, and now…_now_ she wants him to know her body.

"Touch me, Castle."

He growls, hunger flaring in his eyes and it's his turn to lift her shirt. He takes his time, drags his fingertips up and against her skin on both sides, across her ribs, over the curves of her breasts through the simple black lace, before he finally tugs the shirt off, dropping it to the floor by his.

His hands return to her waist, large palms nearly spanning it as she sinks deeper into his lap, the shift causing them both to groan as she can feel just how affected he is by her. She's fighting the urge to move her hips, wants nothing more than to push deeper against him as she reaches behind herself to unhook the clasp of her bra. He brushes her hand away, unhooks it himself in one swift motion but doesn't make a move to take it off. Her breath catches as he leans closer, presses his mouth to the skin of her collarbone, kisses along her shoulders as he plays with the straps one by one, slowly sliding them down over her arms until the lace _finally_ slips free.

He's driving her absolutely crazy, his hands and mouth everywhere but where she needs them most and her entire body is aching for release, buzzing with desire that swims through her veins. She's imagined this moment in her mind at least a hundred times now, imagined the way he'd touch her, hold her, pictured him as she touched herself, dreaming, wishing her hands were his and never in a million years would she have guessed he'd be this patient, this in control, and _damnit_ she's determined to take some back.

"Stop teasing," she gasps, grinding down against his lap mercilessly.

"Kate," he hisses. His head falls to her shoulder and he bites down against her skin as he can't stop his hips from chasing hers back up when she retreats ever so slightly. She drags her body down against him again, head falling back as his hands move to clutch at her waist, powerless to resist the temptation any longer. He's strong and solid and _hard _underneath her, pressing into her right where she needs the pressure. _Yes, right there. Right there, Castle._

She grins wickedly, watches his expression as she catches his hand, guides it to her breast. He moans as her nipple hardens immediately beneath his touch. His eyes are wide, hungry, almost desperate as he circles, pinches, smoothes his thumb over the raised peak and finally gives into this own need, lowering his mouth to her chest.

He palms her other breast as he sucks on her nipple, rolling his tongue over it in slow, teasing flicks. She gasps, arches into his mouth, the feeling so good, so incredibly intense that she thinks she could come undone from this alone.

She plays with the waistband of his jeans and his body jerks as her fingers slip further down, stroke the skin just below the edge of his boxers. He reflexively lifts his hips, causing their lower bodies to connect again and _oh god_ she cannot take much more. She needs him naked _now._

His mouth is still doing indecently amazing things to her chest, making it hard for her to think through the haze of arousal and if there's any chance of making this last, she's got to do something quick.

"Bed," she finally manages to grit out as she rocks against him on impulse. He finally releases her nipple from his mouth with a slick pop and gazes up at her, eyes clouded with lust.

Before she knows it, he's lifting them both from the couch, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he carries her easily toward the bedroom. She loves this too, the strength of his body, the width of his hands. She's never felt safer than she does in this moment, his grip on her steady, sure.

He deposits her lightly against the edge of her mattress, eyes roaming her body appreciatively, reverently, and he pauses briefly, as if he's soaking in the sight of her, committing her every shape and curve to his memory.

"Are you sure?" he asks quietly, for the second time tonight, and her heart flutters in her chest. He's still being so cautious, so patient with her, still doesn't seem to understand just how badly she wants this, wants _him._ She thinks she's never wanted another man this much, never loved anyone the way she loves him.

"Yes, I want this. I want you, Rick. More than anything."

She lowers her hand to the waist of her jeans, flicks them open, drawing the zipper down, observes the hitch in his breath as his eyes are glued to her movements. She hooks a foot behind his leg, pulls him forward, and he steps closer, helps her shimmy out of the tight denim, his fingers sliding down along the length of her legs. She shivers against the chill of the air, her body fully exposed with the exception of her underwear, soft cotton that he seems to appreciate by the expression on his face.

"So incredibly sexy," he hums, watching the glow of the moonlight from the window play along her skin.

She pushes herself up, reaches out to undo his belt, tossing it across the room as her other hand works at his jeans. He groans as she drags the zipper down, adding pressure against the bulge in his pants before yanking the jeans down his legs. He steps out of them quickly, pulling his socks off as they go. His eyes slip closed as she cups him through the thin material of his boxers. "Kate," he whispers, straining against the urge to buck into her hand. "Feels so good," he groans.

She chuckles and he growls at her. "Who's the tease now?" he asks, voice low, rough, laced with need.

She gasps as he pushes her down into the bed, moving to prop himself over her as they slide backwards, up and towards the pillows. She nearly crawls out of her skin when he moans into the cotton fabric of her panties, his breath hot against her. "Castle," his name, escapes on a ragged breath as she chases his mouth with her hips, seeking more of his touch.

He slips his fingers underneath the waist of her underwear, teases the soft skin, flicks his thumb over her clit before he rids of her of the last remaining article of clothing. He continues his ministrations with his fingers and her mind goes blurry, a singular chant of _yes, yes, right there, Castle, don't stop,_ the only thoughts she has.

She reaches blindly for his boxers, shoves at them impatiently, and he actually has the nerve to laugh at her as she struggles to slide them down his legs. She huffs at him, rolling her eyes, and a smile breaks across his face as he shucks them away. Even through her mild annoyance she realizes what has caused that smile, something about the entire exchange just feels so natural, so _them_, and she's helpless in containing her own responding smile. It stretches across her entire face, her heart warmed by the recognition that this is _right _and _wow,_ they've really made it here. _Finally_.

She pulls him closer, brings his lips back to hers and slips her tongue inside, probing, exploring his mouth as his body settles heavy between her legs, his fingers still working, slipping inside her, curling. The dual sensations nearly send her over the edge as her back arches off the mattress. It feels so good, his hands are like magic, and again,_ why didn't they do this sooner?_ He stills her, his palm heavy against her hip as he holds her in place. She can feel his erection hot and throbbing against her thigh and she can't contain herself any longer when his fingers do something sinfully good inside her. Flashes of light explode behind her eyes and her body pulses and contracts around his digits as he eases her down from her high.

She kisses him softly, languidly as her hands tangle in his hair. "That was amazing," she hums against the corner of his mouth, still breathing hard. "I think I'm the one who had no idea," she laughs, regaining a bit of control as she moves her hands down to his waist, runs a finger along his length, reveling in the way he grows under her touch. She grips him lightly, runs her thumb across his tip in slow circles and then, it's he who's suddenly panting, mouth dropping open, pressing kisses sloppily along her neck.

"God, Beckett," he groans, "If you don't stop, this is going to be over far sooner than I'd planned," he finishes, eyes slipping shut as she continues to work him up and down, twisting ever so slightly along the way.

She pauses for a moment, considering briefly, and then quickly flips them over, a practiced move from her years of sparring, so that she's the one on top. He lets out a startled yelp, his eyes darker than she's ever seen them as she grins evilly above him.

She rises up, positions his tip along her entrance and sinks down onto him slowly. They both groan simultaneously as he fills her, stretches her, and even though it's only been minutes since she broke apart she can feel the need rising steadily inside her again as they start to move together.

She doesn't know what she thought this would be like but everything she has ever conceived falls short of this feeling. It's nothing like anything else she's ever experienced. This connection between them, the way they work together, like they were always building toward this moment, an inevitable conclusion and beginning to their story all in one. There are no more words, only the feel of his hands guiding her hips, the motion of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots, urging into her, deeper, deeper.

She's barely clinging on to the last of her restraint when he whispers, "Let go for me, Kate." His voice against her ear is enough to shatter the last of her resistance and she clenches around him, splinters apart in his arms as he follows right behind, pumping into her rhythmically with his own release.

He holds her close, kisses her deeply as he traces his hands up and down her back, rolling them onto their sides.

"That was…wow," he says between breaths, still coming down.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Wow."

They drift into a comfortable silence as they recover side by side. The soft glow of the moon shining in from her window paints shadows across his skin and she finds herself unable to resist touching him, running her fingers along the sharp ripple of muscle in his arms. She doesn't know how she's waited all this time to touch him but now that they've crossed this line she never wants to stop.

After a few minutes she tucks her head into the crook of his neck and presses a soft kiss to the skin of his collarbone. "Thank you," she says.

"For the mind blowing sex?" he asks, his voice still a little breathless. "Pretty sure that was equally enjoyed, Kate."

She swats at his arm. "I'm trying to be serious," she huffs, rolling her eyes at him as she pulls back so she can see his face.

He laughs, "Well, you have to admit, it was pretty –ooooof!" She tosses a pillow at his head, cutting him off, but when he tosses it aside, she knows he can see the laughter in her eyes behind the smirk. He coughs to cover up a laugh and she watches as he tries to school his features, lets her have this moment. "For what, Kate?"

"I just meant for waiting, for all the times you've saved me, are still saving me, for not giving up. I don't deserve it but I need you to know that I'm in this."

He looks at her, eyes growing more serious as he traces his fingertips down her side, catches her hand, and laces their fingers together. "I already told you, you're worth it, Kate. You may be the most maddening, challenging, frustrating person I've ever met but you're also the most extraordinary, the most passionate, the most amazing, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else could ever come close to you."

She lays her head back against his chest again, suddenly exhausted, but it's good feeling now. She feels safe with him here, loved, warm for the first time in a week.

She's no longer drowning when she sleeps in his arms.

* * *

_Thoughts?_


End file.
